


Anything for Charity

by Rehfan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bad Decisions, Blow Jobs, Bottom Derek Hale/Top Stiles Stilinski, Bruises, Butt Plugs, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, First Dates, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marking, Rimming, Stilinski Twins, Switching, Theft, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Topping from the Bottom, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-04 12:19:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3067616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehfan/pseuds/Rehfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A date with Derek Hale is on the hospital charity auction block.<br/>And Stiles Stilinski has his twin brother's credit card and a plan to finally get Derek alone.<br/>But will he have the courage to pull it off?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“So when is he up?” asked Stiles, his knee bouncing nervously. He was really gonna do this. He couldn’t believe he was really going to bid on a date with Derek Hale.

“You realize that if you win it, you will actually be expected to go out on a date with him, right?” asked Scott as he watched his best friend vibrate with anticipation. He held back an urge to hold Stiles back.

“You realize that he is going to be impressed with how much money I’m willing to spend on him, right?” asked Stiles defensively.

Scott shook his head. “Using your brother’s credit card for this is a bad idea, dude.”

“What’s the point of having an identical twin when you can’t pull shit like this and get the date of a lifetime?” he asked. “Besides, Stewie owes me.”

“You know he hates it when you call him that,” said Scott. He remembered the wallop Stuart Stilinski gave him for calling him by that terrible truncation. That was before he got bitten, of course. Nowadays, Scott could beat the shit out of Stuart without even winding himself.

Stiles shrugged “Well he’s not here, is he?”

“Technically his money is,” Scott reminded him.

“It’ll be fine. I’ll tell him it was for charity. He’s a soft-hearted guy. He loves kids. It’ll be fine.” Scott raised his eyebrows at Stiles. “It’ll be fine,” Stiles repeated.

They watched everyone file in and sit at the different tables around the room. Melissa McCall was set to host this evening’s auction to raise money for the hospital’s children’s wing and Scott and Stiles had been invited by her in order to help give her focus and keep her calm. They were supposed to be her cheering section, not active bidders. But as soon as Stiles got wind that Derek Hale had decided to auction off a date with himself as the prize, Stiles knew his time had come.

He had been pining after the moody bastard for years - ever since their time fighting Jackson-as-Kanima in the pool. A wet Derek was the source of many masturbatory fantasies for Stiles since that night. Now that he was actually of age and in college, he felt he could handle a date with Derek. Armed with his twin brother’s credit card (with a $40,000 limit thanks to his genius intellect, self-run business, and excellent credit rating), he felt more assured than ever that his bid would be the highest one and that the sheer amount of money spent on sick kids was a certain path to get into Derek Hale’s silky boxers. What’s the worst that could happen?

“I wonder why Derek decided to do this,” mused Scott.

“What do you mean?” asked Stiles looking around like a prairie dog, hoping to catch a glimpse of his prize so that he could steel himself when the lights went up on the catwalk, fully prepared for the onslaught of hot Derek once he appeared. “He’s a generous guy.” Scott gave him another incredulous look. “What?” asked Stiles. “He mentored you, didn’t he? I think it’s safe to say that Derek likes kids.”

Scott rolled his eyes at that. “It just doesn’t seem his thing. I mean - an auction? It’s a bit too… people-oriented for him. I should think that if he wanted to contribute, he’d just write a check and be done with it rather than subject himself to this public humiliation.”

“Well his lapse in good judgment is going to be my victory,” said Stiles and he drummed his fingers nervously on the table.

Scott couldn’t stand it anymore. He grabbed and held Stiles’ hands. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He looked earnestly at his friend. “I mean, you couldn’t get up the guts enough to ask Lydia Martin out all those years and-”

“I was a child then,” said Stiles, sitting a little straighter, indignant. “I was still a virgin when I wanted her, untested, unproven. And now…” he cast his eyes about the room and finally spotted Derek in the shadows talking with Mrs. McCall. He swallowed hard. “Now I’m a man,” he finished, his voice cracking slightly because Derek was right there and smiling and oh god how beautiful was that?

~080~

 

“And our next item up for bid: a date with Derek Hale,” said Melissa proudly. “It can be in whatever locale or venue you choose, just be gentle, ladies. It’s his first time on the auction block and he’s a bit nervous. Derek? Come say hello.” She waved her arm out in a gesture toward the stage to her right and the lights came up on Derek. He blinked into them, his head coming up from a shy dip it had made as he passed into the spotlight. Soon his smile was broad and he stood there proudly, hands in his pockets, suit cut to fit, dressed to kill. “What am I bid for a date with this gorgeous man?” Melissa asked the audience.

The sigh and gasp that passed through the room at Derek’s entrance made Stiles roll his eyes. “Clearly they have no idea that I’ve got this one sewn up,” he whispered to Scott. He dug a pair of glasses out of his backpack and a different colored shirt as he heard the bidding begin.

“One hundred dollars,” someone shouted.

“I have a bid at one hundred in the back,” said Melissa happily. “That’s a great start, but do I hear more?”

“Cover me,” said Stiles as he ducked and sneaked out along the wall toward the bathrooms. Melissa caught him going and shot a questioning look to Scott who shrugged and mouthed “bathroom”. Melissa nodded in understanding and refocused on the auction.

The bidding had gotten as high as six hundred-fifty when a voice from the very back of the room said clearly: “One thousand.”

A collective gasp went through the room and Melissa blinked in surprise. “Well… that’s very generous.” She cleared her throat and took a sip of water. “Do I hear more? How about eleven hundred?”

Derek stood motionless watching the action, his face blushing more and more with each bid as it was coupled by a voice that could only be described as thirsty.

“Eleven,” came a female voice from in front of Derek. She was an older woman with large breasts and heavy makeup and Derek gave her a nervous grin.

“Twelve,” came the same voice from the back, a male voice. Scott knew it was Stiles and slowly sank in his seat before his mother could look at him and spot his guilt.

“Thirteen,” said another woman, this one thin and reedy who sat behind Scott.

“Fifteen,” said Stiles, upping the ante. There was another gasp at this and Melissa announced the new amount, asking if there were any more bidders for a date with Derek Hale.

Derek shaded his eyes and peered out beyond the lights to see the male bidder but could only catch a silhouette of spiky hair and glasses.

“The bid stands with the gent in the back at one thousand five hundred dollars,” said Melissa. “Do I hear another bid?” She gave everyone a moment to consider. Fifteen hundred dollars was way more money than they thought they would make on Derek, and Melissa was too busy being stunned to be pleased. “Anyone?” she asked, hoping against hope that the money would keep rising. No one spoke. She had to call it: “Going once, going twice… sold to the gentleman in the back for fifteen hundred dollars.” A spontaneous round of applause went up. “Thank you, sir for your generous bid!”

Stiles wanted to fist pump the air, but instead he nodded toward Mrs. McCall and stepped backward further into the shadows. He ran back to the bathroom and changed his shirt, tucking his glasses into the spare shirt he brought and rolling it all up in a ball under his arm as he made his way as stealthily as possible to the main room. He slid into his seat, threw Scott a wink and stuffed the shirt and glasses in his bag. “Does your mom suspect anything?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” said Scott. “But if she finds out, you are SO screwed.”

“Why?” asked Stiles. “The money’s going to charity, isn’t it?”

“It’s still theft, Stiles,” said Scott. “And more than that - dude - fifteen hundred dollars?! Are you insane? I mean, clinically insane?”

“Well if you don’t count the time I went to Eichen House, then no,” said Stiles. He shrugged. “It’ll be fine, dude. Stuart has a boatload of money from his online company. It’ll all be fine.”

Scott gave him a tight grimace and didn’t mention it again. He didn’t want to ruin Stiles’ happiness, but he could see the train coming down the tunnel.

 

~080~

 

The auction ended with a grand total of two hundred sixty-four thousand, three hundred eighty-five dollars. Melissa couldn’t have been happier; their goal had only been one hundred fifty thousand dollars. They would definitely be able to afford the open MRI for the children’s wing with the money. She was buzzing with joy and Scott smiled at her prattling on and on amongst her friends when Stiles leaned in his ear and said: “Dude, I gotta go pay up for my bid. Cover me while your mom’s not paying attention.”

“Yeah,” said Scott, his stomach dropping at the thought of Stiles actually stealing money from his twin for a date with Derek. He sighed as he watched Stiles slip away, a smile reappearing on his face as his mother kept talking and talking.

 

~080~

 

“Mr. Stilinski?” asked the treasurer.

“Yes,” said Stiles, who wore a wrinkled red silk shirt and dark thick-rimmed glasses. He pushed them up on his nose as he looked at the man, assuming the posture and mannerisms of his brother as best he could.

“How did you wish to pay?” the man asked.

“Credit card alright?” asked Stiles, waving the card between two fingers.

“Perfectly,” said the man and he ran it and passed Stiles a receipt for fifteen hundred dollars. This was the biggest amount of money that Stiles had seen in his lifetime all in once place and he swallowed past his nerves as he signed his brother’s name. “Thank you… um… Stuart,” said the man looking at the card and the receipt for his name. “Your contribution is most generous. We hope you enjoy your prize.”

“I intend to,” said Stiles with a wicked grin. He pocketed the receipt and credit card deftly.

“Here is Mr. Hale’s number,” said the man, “so that you may contact him when you are ready to make arrangements for your, uh… date.”

“Thanks,” said Stiles looking at the business card and wandering off.

He didn’t really need Derek’s number, but it was nice to see his digits officially handed over like a holy relic. It was the opportunity of an excuse that Stiles cherished. Here was the gateway to finally getting Derek alone in a romantic venue. The possibilities were endless. As he pocketed the card and headed back to the men’s room to change again, he had a niggling feeling that he should have just been bold enough to ask Derek out in the first place. To steal from his brother just because he was a coward didn’t seem right to him, but he shrugged it off - what’s done is done. No use worrying about it now. It was all full-steam ahead on the good ship Stiles Is Getting Laid.


	2. Chapter 2

“What the hell is this?” shouted Stuart. He came storming down the stairs and into the living room startling both Stiles and the sheriff. “What the hell is this?” he repeated and showed Stiles the screen of his smartphone. “A credit card charge of fifteen hundred dollars? For a hospital visit? What the hell did you do to yourself to warrant a hospital charge of fifteen hundred dollars?”

“Stiles?” asked John Stilinski glaring at his son. “What did you do?”

“N-nothing!” said Stiles. It was a reflex answer. He caved under their collective gazes. “Ok, first of all, dad, I’m fine.” He stood up and turned around, arms outspread. “See? Not a mark on me. Just fine.”

“Wait,” said the sheriff, “didn’t you go with Scott and his mom to the charity auction the other night?”

“Well, yeah.”

“And you what - bought the hospital?” asked his twin, face reddening with his anger.

“Stuart,” warned his father, waiting for Stiles to explain himself.

“Well,” he said slowly, eyes flicking guiltily from father to brother and back again, “I may have bid on something… you know - for charity.”

“This is a charitable donation?” asked Stuart, his attitude cooling somewhat.

“Yes,” said Stiles.

“Fifty bucks is a charitable donation, Stiles,” said Stuart. “Five hundred dollars is a high-end charitable donation. Fifteen hundred dollars is highway robbery. Especially when I didn’t give you my credit card to begin with!”

“So you didn’t give him money to donate to the hospital?” asked his father.

“No!”

“Stiles-” began the sheriff.

“Dad, I can exp-”

“Not good enough,” said the sheriff. He turned to his other son and sighed. “Can you stop the charge? Tell them that it’s fraud?”

Stuart sighed just like his father. He looked to his pathetic excuse for a brother and shook his head. “Technically it is tax deductible,” he reasoned.

“Completely,” encouraged Stiles.

Stuart glared at him. Their father chimed in: “And technically it is also theft.”

“But technically you both love me and you know my heart was in the right place and it did go to charity,” said Stiles in a long breath. He braced himself for the worst.

“You have to pay your brother back,” said the sheriff, his word final.

Stuart stood up straighter and added: “With interest.”

“Just the principal,” said the sheriff.

“But dad!” whined Stuart.

The sheriff held up a finger for silence. “Stuart you are planning to write this off as a charity donation on your taxes? Yes?” Stuart shrugged and nodded. “Then you get your compensation there. Stiles you will work overtime - double shifts if you have to. And on top of that, I am grounding you until you do: no friends, no “pack meetings” or whatever your friends call it, no nothing.”

“Dad, there’s no such thing as double shifts in lawn maintenance. And besides, I’m in school too.”

“I don’t care,” said the sheriff talking over his son. “You will find the extra cash and you will give your brother a consistent amount in order to pay off your debt to him, be it two hundred a week for seven and a half weeks or three dollars a week for eternity. You will pay him back and you will never ever do anything like that again. As of right now, Stiles, you are a thief. A thief! And I am not raising criminals in this house!”

Stiles was ashamed. The fact that the money went to charity really didn’t soften the blow that he did, in fact, steal the money in the first place. He knew it all along, but the anger and hurt in his dad’s voice was not something he was prepared for. He could feel the tears choking his throat and he knew he would be crying openly if he didn’t tamp it down as soon as he could. But he couldn’t mash down overwhelming feelings in the living room. He needed to get to his own room and lose his shit behind closed doors. His brother Stuart stood in his way.

“You really fucked up, Stiles,” said Stuart.

“Just let me go, Stu,” he said, and brushed past his twin, taking the stairs two by two. He shut his door behind him and the flood of guilt hit him like a body check on the lacrosse field. He crumpled against the door and cried with abandon, wishing he was a better son, wishing he was a better brother, wishing his mom were there to hold him because he’d fucked up again and he still didn’t have the guts to call Derek Hale. For all his craftiness and cleverness, he was still a fucking coward and he curled in onto himself willing death to come and take him.

 

~080~

 

Stuart never really believed in the whole thing about twins able to feel what the other one was feeling, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that Stiles was cut to the bone for being called a thief. But that’s what he was. Their father was a cop - thought like a cop, behaved like a cop. “What did you think was going to happen once dad found out?” Stuart muttered to the ceiling above him where he was sure his brother was collapsed in the fetal position and crying his eyes out. He shook his head and looked at the bill again. He couldn’t believe it.

The bill disappeared from his screen and was replaced with a notification of a phone call. He didn’t recognize the number, but it was a Beacon Hills area code. He usually didn’t answer calls from numbers he didn’t know, but he clicked the “accept” button anyway. “Hello?” he said.

“Hi… um… is this Stuart Stilinski?”

“Yes? Who’s this?”

“Are you any relation to Stiles Stilinski?”

Stuart sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What my brother do this time?”

“Your… brother,” said the voice.

“Yes, Stiles Stilinski is my brother,” said Stuart. “Who is this anyway? How did you get my number?”

“The auction organizers gave it to me,” said the man. “I hope it’s okay that I called you, only… you never called me. My name’s Derek Hale.”

“I see… I was supposed to call you-”

“Yeah,” said Derek, his voice brightening, “about our date? Where would you like to meet? And don’t worry about the cost. You won a date with me, so the dinner or whatever is on me. Least I could do for the generous donation you made to the children’s wing at the hospital.”

“The generous-” said Stuart catching on, “of course. Yes. Name the place and time, Derek. I’d love to cash in on what I purchased.” He glanced at the ceiling toward his brother’s room and smirked. “I think I’m going to enjoy spending an evening with you.”


	3. Chapter 3

“What do you mean you haven’t made the date yet?” asked Scott. They were driving back from a pack meeting at Derek’s loft. They tried to get together once a month because they had all gone their separate ways after graduation; a pack needed to stay strong to survive. But there had been a weird vibe in the air during the few hours they were discussing the arrangement for the next full moon.

“I know, I know. I’m a fucking coward,” said Stiles cringing as he drove along. “In more ways than one,” he muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Scott. “Dude, what’s going on with you.”

Stiles shrugged. “The bill came in,” he said. “Stu hit the roof and dad was there and it was this big mess. I owe Stu the money back.”

“Ouch,” winced Scott. “Sorry man.”

“It’s okay. You can tell me “I told you so” if you want. I deserve it.”

“Well… I did. But that’s not the point. How are you going to pay him back? You barely had enough money for yourself to do stuff. Stu’s always been the one with the cash.”

“Yeah,” said Stiles. “I found something else out too.”

“What?” asked Scott.

There was a long pause before Stiles’ response. Scott could see his brow furrow and his throat work past a lump. He was tempted to push for more information, but he chose to wait Stiles out. “Stuart’s been paying half the mortgage on our house.”

“What?” Scott couldn’t believe his ears.

“Dad told me. Right before I snuck out of the house for the meeting tonight - by the way, I’m grounded,” said Stiles. He stared off into the night, his eyes welling with tears. “Stuart heard about the hospital bills… from before… you know… Eichen House and all that… and he wrote my dad a check. Then he kept writing them. I had no idea. It gave dad the breathing room to pay the hospital for what our insurance didn’t cover and catch up. He saved us.”

“Jesus,” whispered Scott. “I mean, I always thought your brother was… well…”

“An asshole?” asked Stiles. “Yeah. Me too. To a point. I mean… he was alright when mom was alive. Then everyone discovered that he was this genius and shipped him off to my aunt and uncle in Sunnyvale. High school? Of course he got that done inside of a year. Because he’s Stuart. Good-at-everything Stuart. Then it was college and Google and the websites and all the money rolled in. But you know all that.”

“Yeah,” said Scott. “But I thought that he treated you guys like long lost relatives, only visiting when it was a holiday or if he felt like it.”

“And that’s why he’s home now,” said Stiles. “Mom’s death-a-versary is coming up. It’ll be ten years.”

“Wow,” said Scott. “It seems shorter than that.”

“Yeah,” Stiles remarked glumly. They drove the rest of the way in silence, Scott determined to hug his mom when he got back, Stiles ready to collapse in his bed and cry into his pillow, his guilt and cowardice crowding in on him like the darkness beyond the streetlights.

 

~080~

 

The next night, Stuart missed dinner and came home very late. “Where have you been?” asked Stiles. He had found that an entire day’s worth of feeling like crap can make you hungry; he was just leaving the kitchen having shamelessly consumed the remaining ice cream from the freezer. “You missed dinner. Dad was worried.”

“I’ll tell him I’m back before I go to bed,” said Stuart.

“Yeah, but where were you?”

Stuart looked him dead in the eye and said: “I was on a date.”

Stiles’ eyebrows nearly met his hairline and he blinked rapidly in disbelief. “You? You had a date? With who? Someone in Beacon Hills?”

“It’s “with whom” and yes, I did have a date with someone in Beacon Hills. He was a nice guy, actually - well… at least by the end of the date.”

“What does that mean?” Stiles asked before the light dawned in his eyes and he stepped back gasping. “You got some?”

Stuart rolled his eyes. “On the first date? No, you jackass.” He stretched and threw his coat over the edge of the couch.

“So who was the lucky guy?” asked Stiles, his mind reeling with the possibilities.

“I don’t know if you’d know him,” said Stuart, expecting the exact opposite when he added: “Derek Hale?”

Stiles’ world tilted to the side and he lost all feeling in his legs. His throat closed and his vision collapsed in at the edges. The next thing he knew he was staring at the ceiling, his brother hovering over him, concerned. “Stiles! Stiles! Are you okay?”

“You son of a bitch,” he managed. He closed his eyes tight against the betrayal he felt.

“You brought it on yourself, Stiles,” he heard his brother say. There was the sound of his brother settling himself on the floor next to him. “When I got there he was convinced that I was you. It was pretty insulting, really. I had to pull out my license and my Google ID card to convince him otherwise. We had dinner. Talked about other things - don’t worry. He totally thinks the date was bought by me. He still has no idea that my idiot brother is the one who’s been pining away for him. By the end of the date, he was polite, but I dunno… I suppose he was disappointed that there wouldn’t be a second date with him. I told him I lived too far away, that I was only here for a little bit. He seemed to understand.” His brother sighed and with it a little part of Stiles died a horrible and painful death.

In his heart of hearts he knew his brother was right. He had deserved this outcome. He just had a question: “How did you end up setting up the date with him?”

“Funny enough,” said Stuart. “He called me. Guess you didn’t have the guts enough to call him when you should have, huh?” Stiles groaned. Stuart chuckled hatefully and patted him on the head. “That’s what I figured, loser.” Stuart got to his feet and headed up the stairs. “See you in the morning, jackass.”

As soon as he heard his brother’s bedroom door close, he said softly: “I hate you so fucking much.” He felt the tears welling again as he struggled against the truth of the matter: all that work, all the deviousness, all the grand plans he had went up in smoke with two words: Derek Hale.


	4. Chapter 4

He entered his room the picture of depression and collapsed on the bed fully clothed. “My life is shit,” he said to the ceiling. He called Scott. “My life is shit.”

“What, you can’t say hello anymore?” asked Scott.

“Shut up and listen, dude,” said Stiles. “My brother just made me faint.”

“What?”

“Apparently I waited too long and Derek got impatient and called my brother up and made the date with him and they went on it tonight and my life is absolute shit.” There was so much stunned silence on the end of the line, Stiles pulled the phone away from his face to see if they had lost the connection. “Dude, you there?”

“You’re right,” said Scott. “Your life is shit and not only are you back where you started, you’re also in debt for a metric shit-ton of money to the very person who ruined your life.”

“Exactly,” said Stiles. “I hate him, Scott.”

“No, you don’t,” said Scott. “You’re just different people now.” And he was right. Stiles remembered them being so close as to finish each other’s sentences when they were kids. They wouldn’t dress alike - dad’s rule - but they would share clothing happily, each brother finding a new item he wanted to try and the other brother mixing and matching it with other stuff to make it his own. They talked about what the best video games were and what the best toys were and who the best professional wrestlers were. They shared a life like they shared a womb. And now they were on opposite sides of the fence; not enemies, but certainly not close, not like they used to be.

“Well… right now he’s not my favorite person,” grumbled Stiles.

“Understandable,” said Scott.

They shared a companionable silence and Stiles sighed. “Guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

“Communication 101,” confirmed Scott. “Can’t wait.”

“Yeah… communication. Too bad I haven’t been paying more attention in that class, huh?” he chuckled sadly.

“Just get some sleep, dude,” said Scott. “Things will be better tomorrow.”

He hung up the phone with a curt “yeah, bye” and sighed again. He thought of Derek and his brother sitting cozy at a booth in a fancy restaurant, Derek’s arm draped casually over his brother’s shoulder as they talked about anything and everything, Stuart flashing that brilliant smile of his and winking impishly at Derek. He wondered if they had kissed and Stu didn’t tell him because he knew it would break him. No. He would have been able to tell. Derek didn’t kiss him and Stu didn’t try to kiss Derek.

And now Stu knew of his terrible crush on Derek Hale. He wondered how his brother would judge him. Did he approve of Derek? He did call him a nice guy, so obviously he didn’t know Derek very well. And more to the point, the pack meeting was just last night. Derek had made the date before that, didn’t he? Stiles groaned and threw an arm over his head. “You stupid shit, Stilinski,” he chided himself. “Derek had a date with your brother for the next night. That’s why he was staring at you all weird. He was wondering what your brother would be like. Jesus. Derek was staring at me and imagining my brother.” A cold shiver went up Stiles’ spine at that. “Ugh…” he groaned and pressed the heels of his hands in his eyes, “Derek Hale you are just the worst.” There was a long silence as he lay there listening to his heartbeat.

“Gee, thanks,” said Derek.

Stiles bounded out of bed, startled at the sudden appearance of the man of his dreams and tormentor of his nightmares. His eyes shot to the open window and back to Derek. “Dude, I am gonna buy you a bell to wear around your neck. That is so not cool.”

“Neither is stealing money from your brother,” said Derek calmly and crossing his arms.

Stiles didn’t have a comeback for that. “Yeah,” he said finally as his heartbeat slowed from panic attack mode. “Good point.”

“I want to know why, Stiles,” said Derek.

“Why what?’

Derek rolled his eyes and took a step forward. “I want to know why you did what you did just for a date with me.”

Stiles couldn’t look him in the eyes. He answered quietly, fingers picking at his bed covering: “I thought you might laugh.”

Derek thought a moment. “I would have.”

“See?” said Stiles. His eyes had yet to meet Derek’s, but they had managed to find the man’s shoes. “I knew you’d reject me and laugh at me and then I could never go to a pack meeting again without it being all weird and shit and now it’s definitely going to be all weird and shit and I really think you’d better leave, okay?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” said Derek.

Stiles looked right in his face at that. “What?”

“Not until you get what you paid for, Stiles,” said Derek. He was standing only a foot from him, his hands now on his hips. He stared down at Stiles until he could feel that curl of heat forming in his gut.

“Wh- What do you mean?”

“Come here,” he said gently and held out a hand.

Stiles looked at it the way a dog considers a cherry tomato. Ultimately he rose to his feet with Derek’s assistance and stood almost nose-to-nose with him. Derek smirked and said: “I’m so glad this is a house full of normal people.”

“Why?” asked Stiles.

“Because if your brother or father could hear what I’m going to do to you, they’d be up all night.”

“Wha-?” His question was cut off by a rather searing kiss, Derek’s mouth worrying Stiles’ bottom lip, hands curling around the small of his back, holding him steady.

Stiles could do nothing but let it all happen. Derek was too strong, too solid against him, his body heat undeniable as he pressed the hard line of him against Stiles’ frame. Stiles found his arms wrapping around Derek’s shoulders, clinging to him, hands smoothing along his shirt and up his neck, encouraging him with fingers in his hairline. An unbidden moan fell from Stiles as Derek switched angles, tilting their heads to opposite sides and delving in with a warm tongue to taste the quivering boy in his arms.

“The more time I spent with your brother, the more I couldn’t get over how much I wanted it to be you, Stiles,” said Derek his mouth making Stiles’ neck a pinked-up mess with the beard burn he was giving him. “I wanted you the whole time.”

“You did?” asked Stiles, trying not to let his erection get the best of him.

“Oh God, yeah,” said Derek, his hands worming their way up his shirt. Stiles was hot everywhere from his touch. He could feel the sweat on his brow and a line of it appearing down his spine. He moved his hips to place his feet inside of Derek’s and gasped when his cock met the firm flesh beneath Derek’s flies. “See… told you.”

“Shit, Der,” said Stiles as Derek’s fingers dipped into the waistband of his jeans.

“Give yourself to me, Stiles,” said Derek. He paused a moment before lifting Stiles’ shirt over his head and sucking a line of kisses down the middle of his torso. He could feel the pressure on his jeans as Derek held at his hips and bent down on one knee. He mouthed over Stiles’ erection and Stiles thought he was going to come unglued. He couldn’t undo his jeans fast enough, his zipper practically popping loose of its own accord. Stiles swore he heard Derek grunt with anticipation before his hot mouth found the tented material, but Stiles was past caring about that. All he knew was that Derek motherfucking Hale was about to suck his dick and all was right with the world.

“Stiles? Stiles!” There was a pounding on the door.

The bright light of dawn came through his window as Stiles blinked out of his dream. A dream. _Shit_ … "SHIT!"

“Stiles?” called his father again from the other side of the door. “Don’t forget you’ve got class in an hour and you’re working Mrs. McCall’s property today. Better get going!”

“Sure thing, dad,” he called back, “thanks.” He glanced down his body and lolled his head back with an exasperated moan: morning wood. First thing was first: He took the lube out of his bedside table drawer and stroked himself off, trying to recapture the feel of Derek’s hot mouth on his cock. He wanted to enjoy it. He wanted to get the full satisfaction from his release, but there wasn’t time. He finished himself off quickly, using a tissue to catch his mess, pulled up his jeans and headed to the shower. He had four properties on his schedule that day plus his three classes and he had to be to Scott’s in thirty to pick him up. There was no time for anything but his responsibilities and he hated being a grown-up with a mad flaming passion.

“When you get home we can talk about a payment plan,” his brother called after him, not even bothering to look up from his tablet. “I’ll give you my PayPal address.”

He sat there smugly sipping coffee as he typed in God-knows-what into his high-end detachable touch-screen computer. Stiles didn’t even bother to answer him, he just pulled on his backpack and slammed the front door. Everyone could go to hell today - including his own subconscious.


	5. Chapter 5

By that afternoon he had the misfortune to run into Derek himself in the flesh. He was waiting on Scott’s front lawn when they arrived that day to trim it and Stiles wanted to climb into a hole. “Melissa asked me to be here to present your boss with his check,” he explained. Stiles watched his employer accept the check with thanks and the four-man team spread out, each do his job: two to do the trimming, one to mow, and the last to use the blower on the drive and walkways and bag the leaves. Stiles was on trimmer duty this time around and he strapped the industrial-model over his shoulder and put on his hearing and eye protection. This was the second of four lawns they had to do today and he was already stinking and covered in filth. The last person he wanted to see was Derek Hale - especially when the werewolf couldn’t look like a filthy mess if he was fresh off a win at a hog wrestling contest.

Even after doing what Mrs. McCall had asked of him, he stood there watching Stiles with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, leather jacket open, white shirt beneath, collar undone and looking like sex personified, god damn him. Stiles felt his mouth water and blushed profusely. He cleared his throat and went about his business. Two minutes later, Derek was still there watching him only now he had decided he would be more comfortable sitting on the porch steps, elbows on knees, one hand holding the other, eyes still fixed on Stiles. Stiles put his head down and kept working.

Derek was saying something to him. He could see it out of the corner of his eye, but he pretended he didn’t hear. Not that he did. The sound of lawn cutting equipment was deafening and the ear protection they gave him consisted of a heavy-duty sound-canceling headset so the only thing Stiles did hear was the muted buzzing of his own edge trimmer. He had to walk past where Derek sat in order to do his job and he jumped back when Derek swiped a hand at him, motioning for him to remove his headset. Stiles looked at his boss who was concentrating on mowing around a single sapling in the side yard adjacent to the front lawn. He shouted: “What?”

Derek motioned again for him to remove the ear protection and with a roll of his eyes he pulled one ear covering down with a gloved hand. “What?” he repeated as he turned off his machine.

“So you have a brother,” he said. Stiles rolled his eyes again. “A twin brother,” Derek elucidated.

“Yeah, I do,” said Stiles. “I understand that the two of you had a marvelous time last night.”

“It was okay,” said Derek and Stiles couldn’t believe the amount of relief that spread throughout his system at those words.

“Anything else?” asked Stiles, nodding toward his coworkers. “Because - as you know - I can’t afford to lose my job.”

“No,” said Derek. Stiles chalked it up to his imagination, but he could have sworn Derek looked like he had more to ask. Stiles was too busy being heartbroken and disappointed to care. He replaced his ear covering and went back to work. Somewhere between the beginning of the left side of the walk way and the end of it at the drive way, Derek had left. He didn’t even say goodbye.

 

~080~

 

When he came home there was a box on the doorstep and a card with his name on it. He picked both up curiously and went inside. Stuart was on the phone with someone in the kitchen and he headed up to his room with his treasure. He made sure his bedroom door was closed and locked before propping a chair underneath the handle as an extra precaution; you never could tell when a nosy brother was going to butt in.

He opened the card first.

Inside was a slip of cardstock paper folded in half, plain white save for the computer printed message: “Lacrosse field - 8pm tonight”; it wasn’t signed.

The box was taped shut and it took his scissors to finally break the packing tape and let him into the cardboard container. Inside was a teddy bear. In its paws was another card: “Please.”

Stiles sat on the end of his bed with the bear in his hands. It was your standard brown bear, nothing special about it, but whomever wanted to meet him tonight thought he might like it. It was kind of sweet, really.

He’d have to sneak out of his house just after dinner. Curiosity hooked him and he called Scott: “You didn’t want to meet up tonight, did you?” he asked him.

“No,” said Scott, “why?”

“Because I got this note on my doorstep when I got home and considering we’ve had the whole morning together in class, I’d have thought that you would have said something to me beforehand without all the drama.” He thought it best for their friendship not to mention the cute bear or how sweet he thought it was to get it. Scott might not think him the badass he tried to be all the time.

“Who’s leaving you notes on your doorstep?”

“The card’s unsigned. No idea,” said Stiles.

“That’s kind of weird,” said Scott. “Do you want me to follow you?”

“No,” said Stiles, “no need, man.”

“Seriously,” said Scott. “If you need me, I’ll be there for you. That field is pretty fucking spooky in the dark. And a lot of shit’s gone down on that field.”

“I know,” said Stiles, who had actually been trying to put all that stuff out of his mind, “but I’ll be fine. Thanks, man.”

“But what if you’re attacked?”

“If I’m attacked… then I’ll just take my bat with me.”

Scott sighed. “Stiles, your baseball bat can’t fight off everything. That’s it. I’m going.”

“But-”

“No argument!” said Scott, practically growling down the phone line.

Stiles clenched his jaw. “Fine,” he said, “but I’m going in alone at first. You stick to the tree line. I don’t want my best friend and fierce True Alpha werewolf to get whoever it is all spooked before I can talk to them.”

“I can live with that,” said Scott.

 

~080~

 

They agreed to meet at the field at twenty minutes before eight. The sun had already set and the sky winked with the first stars. The field was almost completely dark and Stiles couldn’t see anything.

“Stiles,” said Scott, scenting the air, “I smell… fear? No, nervousness. Like… nervous tension in the air.”

“That would be me,” said Stiles. “I’m practically shitting myself, dude.” He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans.

“No,” said Scott with a smirk. “It’s not you. It’s… Derek.”

“What?”

“Derek Hale is here. I’m sure of it.”

“I’ve got to get out of here,” said Stiles.

“No,” said Scott, grabbing him by the shirt. “You’re doing this thing and you’re talking with him or I’ll force-march you out there myself. Now go.”

 

~080~

 

Stiles hadn’t set foot on the field in a full year. It was weird to be back. He stood at the midline and just waited.

“Well?” asked Derek. He came walking up out of the gloom over Stiles’ left shoulder and the boy spun to meet his eyes. The werewolf looked angry. “What is it?”

“What is what?” asked Stiles. “You asked me here.”

Derek blinked as if he had been struck. “No I didn’t. What are you talking about?”

“Wait, so… you didn’t send me the bear?”

“What bear?”

“The cute little fluffy white bear with the red ribbon around its neck and it held a card that said “please” on it like you were being really sincere in wanting me here. That bear,” said Stiles.

Derek blinked at him, his face dead-pan. “Stiles,” he said flatly, “if I wanted to meet you somewhere I would have texted you.”

“But I thought… yeah,” said Stiles, crestfallen. “Yeah, you would have. So, who was the one who sent me the bear? And how did you get your message that I never sent?”

“I have no idea who sent you your bear,” said Derek, “but I guarantee it wasn’t me. And I have no idea who sent me a text from your phone in the middle of the day today - except you.”

“So you got a text from me?”

“That is what I said, isn’t it?”

“But I didn’t send a text,” said Stiles and he pulled out his phone to confirm. “Oh… I did.” He looked at Derek quickly to see the werewolf raise his eyebrows in surprise. “But I swear I didn’t! I mean it!”

“Check the time stamp,” said Derek.

“This was sent when I was mowing Mrs. Rawlings’ yard,” said Stiles, squinting in confusion at his phone. “I didn’t touch my phone. I never do when I’m working. I’m technically not allowed, plus I don’t want to get it filthy.” He looked at Derek earnestly and said: “I don’t know who did this.”

Derek’s squared his shoulders. “We’re going to find out. Come with me.”


	6. Chapter 6

Derek’s loft was always so different without the rest of the pack. It was somehow far too… open, empty. Derek slid the massive door closed behind them and stalked to the giant table that stood before the window. Stiles collapsed in one of the few chairs in the space, legs over one arm, back against the other, and sighed. “I just don’t understand why anyone would send you a text to meet me at a certain time and place and then send me a package stating the same thing. Someone’s set us up, but why?”

“I don’t know,” said Derek. He leaned heavily on the table. “I’ll ask around, see if anyone’s seen or heard anything unusual.”

“You think this is werewolf business?”

“I don’t know.”

“We should totally call in the pack if it is,” said Stiles, pulling out his phone. “I’ll text Scott.”

Derek watched as Stiles’ thumbs flitted over the screen. There was a moment’s pause and then Stiles furrowed his brow for a moment before lolling his head back in frustration.

“What?” asked Derek. “What did he say?”

“It’s not pack business,” said Stiles.

“Scott knows what’s going on?”

“He does and he’s an ass,” said Stiles. “And when I get to his house, I’m going to kill him, grind him up, and bake him in a little werewolf pie.”

“He sent you the bear,” said Derek.

It wasn’t a question but Stiles answered it anyway: “Apparently.” Derek nodded and Stiles could see him repressing laughter. “Shut up,” he said.

Derek grinned widely and barely choked out: “I didn’t say anything!” Stiles could feel his ears turning red. “I mean,” Derek said, his laughter apparent despite his best efforts, “it’s a very cute gift to get from your bestie. Red ribbon and all. You two make a cute couple.”

“See!” said Stiles. “This is why I don’t tell you things!” He stormed off toward the door.

“Stiles!” said Derek, getting his laughter under control. “Stiles, wait! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings! Come on!” He pursued him and caught him at the door. “Come on, Stiles. Have a sense of humor.”

“I’m about out of humor lately,” he said.

Derek looked at him seriously. “What’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” said Derek. “You’ve been nervous and edgy lately. The scent of it comes off of you in waves. Even now, you’re nervous about something. What is it? What are you hiding?”

“Nothing,” said Stiles and he made to move past him, but the werewolf held him fast. Stiles looked at Derek angrily. “You see that?” He nodded toward where Derek had a grip on his forearm. “You see that? Last time I checked, that was a felony charge.” He stared at Derek until he released him and stomped off into the night to find and kill his so-called best friend.

 

~080~

 

“Where the fuck do you get off playing games like that?” Stiles was enraged and crying. Scott just stood in the doorway of his house, shocked at his friend’s anger. “Don’t you think I know I should tell him how I feel? Don’t you think I know that this is killing me and it will only continue to kill me for as long as I don’t tell him? Don’t you think I know that?”

“I- I’m sorry, Stiles, I-”

“Oh, you’re sorry? First my brother thwarts my one fucking chance, undoing all my careful planning, and now you? And you played me, man! You fucking played me! How could you do that?”

Scott bowed his head. “I want you to be happy, Stiles.”

“Well you’ve got a shit way of showing it,” said Stiles, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand. “Just stay the fuck out of it, okay?” He turned away from Scott, climbed into his Jeep and drove away.

 

~080~

 

The Jeep had plenty of gas and Stiles just drove around Beacon Hills for a while to cool off. He really didn’t want to think about the awkward meet-up with Derek that night or the discovery that it was all Scott’s half-assed attempt to get them together so they could talk one-on-one. He supposed he didn’t blame Scott for wanting to help. In fact, the whole set-up seemed exactly like the kind of thing he would have tried had it been Scott with the constipated love life.

And Derek was still in the dark. That was good. Hopefully, enough time would pass to where Derek would have forgotten all about the stupid trick Scott played and they could all move on.

He was in the industrial section of Beacon Hills when it occurred to him that he owed his brother a tremendous amount of money that he didn’t have. He passed by Beacon Hills Bank and Trust and willed his account to swell by the fifteen hundred dollars that hung over his head. It made his stomach flip to consider the trouble he was in. He’s lucky his brother hadn’t pressed charges, but the way his dad got so angry - Stiles hated himself for that. His father’s words echoed in his head: “As of right now, Stiles, you are a thief. A thief! I am not raising criminals in my own house!” His father thought of him as a criminal. He couldn’t live with that. He just couldn’t.

He pulled over to the side of the road, his Jeep having found its way more toward the old Hale property that had long been cleared away. He turned off the engine and wept against the wheel. “What am I going to do?” he wailed. He cried for so long he neglected to see that it had begun to rain.

Suddenly, there was a sharp rap at his driver’s side window. Stiles leapt out of his skin, arms flailing, and perhaps even a scream of utter terror which he would never admit to even if it had actually happened - which it didn’t. Peering through the glass was a soaking wet Derek Hale. He looked angry. And completely sexy. Damn him.

“What do you want?” Stiles said through barrier of the window. No way he was rolling his window down in the middle of a rainstorm and get the interior of his baby wet.

“Let me in,” said Derek and moved to the passenger side door.

He would have wrenched it off its hinges if Stiles hadn’t unlocked it. Stiles knew that look on his face. It meant that Derek Hale was not in the mood for any shit.

“What the hell is going on with you?” asked Derek as he slammed the door and ran a hand through his hair, violently flicking water off of it.

“Hey! Watch the seat covers!”

Derek glared at Stiles. “Tell me what the hell your problem is. Is this about that date with your brother? Because I swear to god, Stiles-”

“No!”

“Stiles…” the warning tone in Derek’s voice was unmistakable.

Stiles stared at him. “Maybe a little.”

“Okay,” said Derek, “So explain. Because I went out to dinner with a guy who paid a really large amount of money to the hospital. It was tantamount to a business transaction. He just happened to be your twin brother - which was weird, by the way - and dinner was okay. He’s smart and charming. So what?”

“So… he’s my brother,” said Stiles.

“So?” asked Derek. “Nothing happened, Stiles. Did you think we had sex?”

“What? No!” said Stiles. “And never give me the image of that again, okay?”

Derek’s brow crinkled. “Wouldn’t that amount to you imagining you and me having sex?”

“Except it would be gross,” said Stiles.

“But you and me having sex wouldn’t be gross?”

“No, because-”

A thick eyebrow arched at him. “You know you’re not actually my boyfriend, right?”

Stiles stared at Derek and sighed. “How did you know where to find me?”

“I’ve been following you ever since you left my place,” he said. “I didn’t want you to actually kill Scott - not that you could.”

“So wait… so you heard what I said to Scott?” Stiles could feel the blood draining from his face.

“Just something about Scott playing you,” he said and shrugged. “I wasn’t there for the beginning bit. And then you left. And I followed you again. And you drove around and around in circles for an hour and forty-five minutes straight and then you stopped here.” Stiles was quiet for a long moment. “So,” Derek continued, “you got really mad at Scott because he played you, but what does that have to do with me going out to dinner with your brother? You seemed way too upset at Scott over a simple practical joke.”

“I wasn’t mad because of a practical joke,” said Stiles weakly.

“You seemed pretty intensely upset tonight, Stiles,” said Derek. “And the marathon slow drive through the town is a little curious too. I mean, why wouldn’t you go home?”

Stiles thought he was going to burst with the questions Derek was asking. His head was spinning. His body felt numb. The noise of the rain on the roof of his car was only adding to the din. “Will you stop asking me questions?!” shouted Stiles.

“No.”

“Derek, please,” Stiles whined.

“No.”

“Get out of my car,” said Stiles. He was angry now.

“No.”

“Yes!”

“No.”

“YES!”

“Make me,” said Derek.

Stiles turned to him, shocked. “Get. Out.” The words were spoken slowly and clearly. “Get. Out. Now. Or so help me, I’ll call my dad and he’ll take you in for harassment and- and- and- and trespassing in a Jeep.”

“Only one of those things is real, Stiles,” said Derek.

“Shut up,” said Stiles. “Just go, okay? GO.”

Derek folded his arms and settled back in the seat. “Not getting rid of me that easily, Stiles.”

Stiles gripped his hair in white-knuckled fists. “Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because we’re pack, Stiles,” said Derek. “And any pack is only as strong as its weakest member. And right now, that’s you.”

“Oh who the hell are we kidding?” quipped Stiles. “That’s always me.” He folded his arms on the steering wheel and buried his head in his arms.

“Not true,” said Derek. “You’re intelligent, Stiles. Smart as hell. You figure things out. You’re the man with a plan. And you’re brave too. I wouldn’t walk into a werewolf fight with a baseball bat, but you do. That takes guts.”

“And more than a little stupidity,” muttered Stiles into the steering wheel.

Derek stared at him for so long that the sound of the rain became another part of the conversation. “Stiles,” said Derek softly. “Look at me.” Stiles slowly brought his eyes up to him. “Whatever part of this is about your brother and I going out, let me clear something up: I was shocked and angry when I met your brother because I thought it was you playing a trick or something. And then I found out about Stuart and I was still angry. Not because Stuart was a bad person, no. But more because he wasn’t you.”

“What?”

“Stiles, you are the most spastic person I have ever had the misfortune to meet, but you are absolutely wonderful. We get along. We respect each other. We get each other. I would have had way more fun with you than with your brother, Stiles. It wouldn’t have been a dinner; it would have been a date. Simple fact.”

“So… you’re saying…?”

Derek sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve really got to spell it out in semaphore? Okay… Stiles Stilinski, will you go out with me?” Stiles was silent for so long Derek became concerned that he had broken the boy’s brain. “Stiles? Look: if you don’t want to go out - if you don’t think of me like that - and let’s face it: I didn’t think of you like that for ages until I met your brother and realized what I wanted-”

“Yes,” said Stiles. “Hell yes, I’ll go out with you.”

It was Derek’s turn to be stupidly silent. Finally his shocked expression melted into a comfortable grin. “Good. Tomorrow night is good for me for dinner. Unless you’ve got to get up early or something.”

“I’ve got a lawn to mow at ten the next morning and then class in the after… noon… Why are you asking me about the next morning?”

Derek shrugged. “Just planning for every eventuality.”

Stiles swallowed past his shock and blinked several times at his windshield. “O-kay.”

“So,” said Derek, “now that that’s out of the way, what’s been your problem?”

“What?”

“Why are you out driving past the preserve this late at night? You said part of it was to do with your brother and the date, but what’s the rest about?”

Stiles couldn’t tell him everything. Then he would know that it really was meant to be a trick and he wasn’t sure how Derek would take it. And he wasn’t so sure Derek would be so happy about his “donation” being made with stolen funds - and all for a lousy dinner he could have gotten just by asking.

“Stiles?” Derek was looking at him with earnest eyes. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”


	7. Chapter 7

It turns out that Derek will take “ask me later” for an answer, thank the freaking Lord. “I just have something to think about and I can tell you later,” he had lied. For some reason though, the werewolf either spotted the lie and let it go, or he wasn’t listening to Stiles’ heartbeat closely enough. Either way, his ruse had worked and Stiles drove back to his house where his father had just come home and was wondering where he had been all night.

“Studying with Scott,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” said his father, hands on hips. Stuart was still up too - listening in from the kitchen table where his work was spread out like a peacock’s plumage. He heard his brother snicker. His father cleared his throat at him. “And I suppose that Scott’s utter cluelessness about you and your whereabouts would support your alibi.”

“Um… not so much, I guess,” said Stiles.

“Idiot,” murmured his brother.

“Shut up,” said Stiles.

“Stiles!” said the Sheriff, “you have exactly six seconds to tell me where you’ve been for the last two and a half hours and it better be the truth because I distinctly recall grounding you.”

Stiles swallowed and told the truth… sort of. “I did go out with Scott and then I met up with Derek and then we-”

“Derek?” asked Stuart. “My Derek? The one I went out with?”

John spun on his other son. “You went out on a date with Derek Hale? On purpose?”

Stuart shrugged and said: “Well, yeah. I don’t know if you noticed, but he’s kinda hot, dad.”

John Stilinski sighed and shook his head. “Why would I have noticed that, Stuart?”

“Because you’re not blind?”

“Okay… okay…” said John attempting to get in a little control over the situation. “Stuart - shut up. Stiles - talk. Now.”

“I went with Derek and then I went to Scott’s to tell him something-”

“To scream in his face,” said John. Stiles made to protest, but John held up a hand. “Melissa told me you were shouting and crying at Scott. Scott seems rather reticent to tell her any detail. Go on.”

“And after that, I just drove around for a couple of hours. That’s all.”

“And besides you being upset with Scott for unknown reasons, you’re alright?”

“Yeah, dad,” said Stiles. “I’m fine.”

“Good,” said John. “You better be thankful that you’re past the age of spankings. You are supposed to be grounded!”

“Oh… yeah.”

“Oh, yeah,” echoed John. “When did I lose my authority as the head of this household? Get to your room. I don’t even want to know what you and Derek were getting up to together.”

“He wasn’t having sex with him, if that’s what you’re worried about, dad.”

“I’m sorry. What now?” said John, his fury compounding.

Stuart smiled indulgently at his horrified brother. “He’s too much of a coward to have dinner with him never mind anything more… serious.”

“Hey, as a matter of fact, I’ve got a date with him tomorrow night, jerkwad. Suck on that,” said Stiles.

“No, you don’t,” said John.

“Yeah I do. We just-”

“GROUNDED. Remember?” John glared at his son.

“Aw, but dad-”

John Stilinski was so angry he couldn’t even form a complete sentence: “Room. Now. Go. Bed. Sleep.” Stiles stomped up the stairs, each step he took bringing him closer to the eventual emotional breakdown he knew he would have over this.

 

~080~

 

Stuart dialed his phone and laid back on his bed. It picked up on the third ring. “Had to think about answering?” he asked.

“For a minute, yeah,” said Derek.

“Thought we might see each other again, you know, before I leave town,” he said.

“Um… I can see you for coffee or something,” said Derek.

Stuart smirked. “I have it on good authority that you will be free tomorrow night for dinner. I thought we might get together then.”

There was an understandable pause on the other end of the line. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that my brother Stiles will be calling you soon to let you know the bad news that our father has seen fit to ground the little bastard. For breaking curfew. He’s in a bit of trouble. So… dinner tomorrow night?”

“Stuart,” began Derek, “I’m flattered, but…”

“But nothing,” said Stuart, “and dinner’s on me. You pick, I pay. Deal?”

“Well… as long as Stiles is alright with it.”

“Mind? Are you kidding? Him minding is the point! But don’t worry,” said Stuart. “I’ve got no designs on you and I don’t even live here. This is just to get his goat a bit. You know: sibling shit.”

“That’s kind of mean,” said Derek.

“And yet, I can tell by the sound of your voice that you’re smiling.” Another pause. The longer it lasted, the more Stuart grinned himself. “So we’re on then?”

“He’s been keeping something from me which is annoying. So I suppose I am mad enough at him to make him a little crazy. And I know for a fact that he hates that we’ve had that one dinner. Two would get him pissed.”

“And a hint that we did more than just dinner…”

“I’m not willing to be that cruel,” said Derek.

Stuart laughed. “Fine. I’ll see you around seven then?”

“Yeah, I’ll text you to work out the details.”

“Deal. See you soon, Derek.” Stuart disconnected the call and sat up to see Stiles standing in his doorway. “Goodnight, bro.”

“You bastard,” said Stiles. Stuart winked at him and closed his door.

 

~080~

 

“You know that this is truly torture for him, right?” asked Derek.

“I know,” said Stuart popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth, “now ask me if I give a shit.”

Dinner turned out to be Chinese take out and a movie marathon on the Stilinski living room couch. Stiles was somewhere upstairs trying to ignore the rumbling surround sound that was almost a tad too high for Derek’s werewolf hearing, but he didn’t think Stuart was privy to his gift, so he bore the discomfort without complaint. But seriously, Pacific Rim had way too much bass to it.

During one of the quieter moments of the film, Derek heard Stiles steal downstairs. “Could you lower the volume? I have an early class tomorrow.”

Derek looked back at him. “No you don’t. You have a lawn to mow at ten and no classes until the afternoon. You told me that.”

Stiles glared at him, “I can’t believe you would do this.”

“Do what?” asked Derek. There was technically nothing happening besides the consuming of Chinese food and popcorn.

“Just face it, brother dear, he traded up.” Stuart never looked away from the television.

“Shut up. No one asked you,” snapped Stiles. He turned back to Derek. “You accepted a date on _our_ date night! That’s what you did. A date night that you said you wanted for a long time. With me. Not him. _Me._ ”

“God, you sound so bitchy,” said Stuart. He elbowed Derek. “Oh! I love this part. Check it out.” He pointed at the television.

Derek turned to look and heard Stiles groan and stomp back upstairs, miserable.

“That was really mean,” he said.

“Yeah,” said Stuart grinning wildly. “I know!”

 

~080~

 

Derek knocked softly at Stiles’ door. He had made some pretense to Stuart about using the bathroom and snuck up the stairs when Stuart went to go change out the DVD. “Stiles,” he whispered as loudly as he dared. “Stiles!”

The door swung open violently and Derek flinched slightly. “What? Are you inviting me to watch you make out with my brother?”

“Shh!” said Derek, checking back down the hallway. “What? No!”

“Then what do you want, you liar?” asked Stiles, whispering reflexively.

Derek was quiet for too long. He was too struck by the look of hurt in Stiles’ eyes to speak.

Stiles spoke instead: “You’re here because you feel guilty for being a dick just now. Am I right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re very very sorry and you want to make it up to me after Stuart leaves town?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’ll never betray me like this ever again because I’m the only one you really want, blah, blah, blah?”

“Yeah.” With every acknowledgment Derek could feel himself shrinking. “I’m really sorry, Stiles.”

“Yeah well, not half as sorry as I’ll be for the rest of my life,” said Stiles. “Just go back downstairs and be with Stuart. Between the two of us he’s the better man anyway. Trust me.” He closed his door and left a very confused Derek standing in the hallway.

 

~080~

 

“You’re his best friend,” Derek said to Scott over the phone. Stuart was popping more popcorn. There was an Expendables movie in the player and Derek was taking advantage of the break.

“I know I’m his best friend, but you really need to talk to him personally,” said Scott. “Look, man. I can tell you what’s going on, but if I do, Stiles will hate me forever and I can’t live with that. You may be pack with me, but Stiles is my brother.”

“Yeah, well,” said Derek, looking back at Stuart messing with a steaming bag of popped corn, “you’re nicer to him than his own brother.”

Scott snorted. “Stuart’s a piece of work. Smart though. And deep down, pretty generous. And Stuart hasn’t told you what’s up with Stiles?”

“You mean he knows too?”

“Well, yeah,” said Scott. “But you really shouldn’t ask him. You really really need to ask Stiles. I think it would help him to tell you.”

“I don’t understand what’s going on here, but it ends tonight.”

“Yeah, well… just don’t hate Stiles for it, okay? He really thought this was his only chance with you.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“Ask. Stiles.” Scott hung the phone up in his ear and Derek was more annoyed than ever.

Stuart came back into the living room with the bowl. “You up for the next round?”

Derek glared at him. “Come with me.”

 

~080~

 

“Why are we going upstairs?” asked Stuart before the thought struck him: “Oh my GOD! I thought you said you didn’t want to be that cruel?”

“Shut up, Stuart,” said Derek. They stopped in front of Stiles’ room. This time Derek didn’t bother to be subtle. He banged on the door with the side of his fist. “Stiles! You can open this door or I can break it down. Your choice.”

“Holy crap,” said Stuart, “just when I thought you couldn’t get any hotter.”

Derek glanced back at Stuart with a look of incredulity when the door swung open again. Stiles was beyond annoyed and Derek could tell that he had been crying. Derek pushed past him into the room, dragging Stuart with him by the shirtfront. “Okay,” began Derek, “as far as I can figure, something happened that has something to do with me and the two of you better tell me what the hell is going on and do it right now.”

Stuart and Stiles sat on the bed facing Derek who was pacing in his rage. Stuart leaned over to Stiles and whispered: “He’s incredibly feral, isn’t he?”

“Not now, Stu,” said Stiles, who was slowly turning green with misery.

“I haven’t told him anything about the circumstances that started this,” said Stuart.

“I know,” said Stiles.

“And I know that too,” said Derek. “And now the two of you are going to bring me into the loop. Now what happened at the auction?”

“Stiles,” said Stuart, offering his brother the floor with a gesture.

“It was me who bid on you that night, not Stuart,” said Stiles. He cringed and waited.

“But you gave your brother’s name,” said Derek.

“Beauty and brains,” said Stuart. “God damn.”

“Shut up, Stuart,” said Derek and Stiles.

“And so when you went to pay the unbelievable amount of money that was owed because of your bid…” prompted Derek.

Stiles turned agony-wrenched eyes to Derek and Stuart and then back to Derek. “I stole Stu’s credit card and pretended to be him and signed his name and I’m a fucking thief,” here he began to cry, “and he’s the better of the two of us because I’m not the smart one, he is. I’m not the one who’s rich and helping with the bills, he is. I’m not the one who’s this fucking genius success. I’m just me.

“I mow lawns for a living and that’s it. And now I’m a thief. And it’s only because my brother is actually an amazing human being (when he’s not being a complete dick) and he isn’t sending me to jail for grand theft and causing a scandal in this town because when our dad found out and actually called me a thief - my dad called me a thief to my face, Derek - it hurt me so fucking much.

“I have never been more sorry for anything in my life and it’s all because I didn’t have the guts to just ask you out myself. It’s all I wanted, Der. Just time alone with you. But I was so fucking scared that you would laugh at me. I was terrified. I mean look at you for Christ’s sake! You’re fucking Derek goddamn Hale: beautiful motherfucker. What the hell would you want with an ADD-riddled stick figure like me?” Stiles’ words hung like a cloud of misery in the room.

Stuart had the good grace to leave the room without further comment. He closed the door behind him when he left and the silence was deafening.

Derek sat on the bed beside Stiles. He didn’t say anything. He simply put a hand to the boy’s back and rubbed gently as he cried and cried and cried, collapsing toward the werewolf and curling into his chest, seeking the solace he didn’t feel he truly deserved from the man he knew was too good for him.


	8. Chapter 8

He had fallen asleep crying. He didn’t even know he had done it. But it made sense considering that he hadn’t felt so emotionally spent in so long. As he wiggled into a better position in his bed, he realized that there was a solid wall of heat behind him. An arm was wrapped about his waist and his hand followed it along to the hand that was curled at his breastbone. Derek.

He turned his head slowly. The moonlight coming into his room was soft against his face and he looked at peace. Gently, Derek opened his eyes. “You stayed,” said Stiles, his voice post-cry croaky.

“Of course I did,” he said.

“And you don’t hate my guts for lying and being a thief?”

“Stiles, you and I have been through enough for me to know that you are brave about a lot in this life. And while I don’t approve of stealing, your brother seemed pretty chill about it all. I can see why he was trying to be so mean to you; I’d be pretty pissed too if I were him. But I have a feeling everything will work itself out.”

“Why do you say that?”

Derek smiled at him softly and closed his eyes. “Go back to sleep, Stiles.” He nuzzled his nose against Stiles’ nape and placed a kiss to the skin there, featherlight. “Don’t worry about anything now. We can talk more in the morning.”

Stiles stifled a moan as heat spread straight to his cock. “Holy shit” came out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“Sleep, Stiles,” said Derek.

“Can’t,” said Stiles, who’s cock was way more awake than any body part of his had a right to be.

“Try,” said Derek and huffed a hot sigh against his neck.

“It’s the difference between light and hard,” said Stiles.

“What?” said Derek, clearly groggy from his own sleep.

“Do you know the difference between light and hard?” Stiles asked.

“Um…” said Derek. “What are you talking about, Stiles?”

Stiles turned to Derek in his frustration, lying flat on his back as the werewolf became more awake. “Derek, the difference between light and hard is that you can sleep with a light on.”

Derek pulled his head back. “Did you just make a dick joke?”

“Breathing on the back of my neck is not fair,” said Stiles. “Nor is kissing the back of my neck or rubbing your nose on the back of my neck. In fact: my neck in general is really _really_ way too sensitive for any kind of snuggling shenanigans.”

Derek watched him with a bemused smile. “Do you want me to help you with that then?” He nodded toward the tent in Stiles’ pants.

“Before the first date?” said Stiles, eying him carefully. “What kind of a boy do you think I am?”

“Horny,” said Derek.

Stiles blinked at him. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

Derek kissed the sarcastic smirk off his face, tasting him with a thick tongue. Stiles felt his breath shudder and his cock twitched. Derek Hale tasted so damn good, like rough and warm and spice and mint all rolled up into one and Stiles could feel his toes curl in his shoes, his back arching, unbidden, drawn toward the hard line of Derek and everything he’s ever wanted. The pressure of Derek’s mouth left him and blindly, Stiles’ mouth chased it, his lips kissing the open air and making him look a bit like a dying fish. He opened his eyes at Derek’s low chuckle. Stiles blushed, abashed.

Derek shook his head. “Spaz,” he said and kissed him again. This one was slow, lingering, as if he and Derek had all the time in the world. Stiles reached up and cupped the back of Derek’s head, deepening the kiss and enjoying the soft feel of all his thick hair. Derek’s right arm was under his neck, cradling him, his hand on his back. His other hand gripped his hip firmly and Stiles could imagine his claws coming out and even though he could render his flesh to ribbons, the threat of it was thrilling rather than frightening; it made Stiles want him more. He moaned at the thought and something may have stirred in Derek from it because the hand that was so hot on his hip, moved to his aching cock and Stiles jumped.

“Whoa!” said Stiles and Derek pulled his hand away.

“I thought you wanted me to…” Derek asked.

“I did. I do! But I just wasn’t- I mean, it’s cool if you want to, because that would be amazing, but-”

“Stiles,” said Derek. “Shut up.” His lips found Stiles’ again and he hummed against him. “You taste so fucking good, Stiles.”

“Do I?” Derek smirked and placed a deep sucking kiss against him that morphed into Derek fellating his tongue salaciously. “Holy motherfucking God,” said Stiles. He wasted no time in grabbing his face and pulling him in again. That hot hand was back against his crotch. “Fuck,” said Stiles. “So good, Der.”

His bulge was well-defined and causing ripples of want into his belly and down his legs as Derek continued to massage over the material. “God damn, Stiles,” said Derek. “I mean, I had hoped you were a well-hung twink…”

“Are you kidding me right now?” asked Stiles as another kiss bruised his lips. He put his hand over Derek’s and guided him in a comfortable stroke. Derek pulled his head back and watched their hands move together. He broke his hand away and undid Stiles’ belt and flies, moving his focus to the cotton boxers that barely held Stiles back.

Derek kissed him slowly again before asking: “Show me how you touch yourself, Stiles.”

Stiles’ brain stuttered before he acted. “Uh, s-sure,” he said as he fumbled to get his dick and balls out. He stroked off and Derek watched him while Stiles watched Derek, open-mouthed and fascinated.

After he had seen Stiles’ hand expertly stroke his cock, memorizing the speed, the grip, and the slight twist Stiles gave himself at the tip, Derek took over, echoing his technique, only this time, the hand was warmer, rougher, and stronger than Stiles’. Stiles’ hips came up to meet the stroke, his back arching, his head kicking back into the pillow. “I want to know what flavor you are, Stiles,” purred Derek into his ear. “Then I want to know what flavor you come in.”

Derek watched Stiles’ eyes widen and the boy fall apart under his hands and felt more like the alpha wolf he used to be. He wanted desperately to kiss that wanton mouth, to suck at his lips and tongue, turning their pink hue to deep red. He wanted to mark the fair skin, to kiss every mole, to suck on each fingertip, to watch him come and then come just a bit more under his tender touch. But he held back. He waited. He watched. The scent of Stiles filled his senses and Derek buried his nose in his neck and inhaled deeply.

“I- I’m close, Der,” said Stiles.

“Come for me, Stiles,” he whispered in his ear.

Stiles’ body convulsed once, twice, and he came hot and hard over his stomach. Derek dipped his head low and licked at the traces of it as he continued to slowly milk Stiles for more. Another errant spurt sent cum over his cheek and Derek kissed Stiles, inching his face closer to him to give him a good long look at his mark on him, his scent on him.

“Jesus Christ, Derek,” said Stiles breathlessly. “You are just the filthiest werewolf.”

“Feral?” He wiped the cum off his face with a finger and licked it off.

“Completely,” said Stiles, kissing him again and tasting his bitter saltiness mixed with Derek. “Now for you.”

Derek opened his mouth to protest, but Stiles put a cum-covered finger over his lips to silence him. Derek took it between his lips and sucked along its length, pulling off with a wet pop. “Okay, that was completely hot,” said Stiles.

He pulled Derek’s cock from his jeans and enjoyed the surreal feel of gliding his hands over something so foreign and yet so familiar. Derek’s head tipped back and he let out a huff of breath. “Grip just a bit tighter,” he coached.

Stiles was all too happy to follow Derek’s direction. He watched Derek relax and trust, realizing that it was Stiles he was giving over to implicitly. It was amazing that the great big sour wolf was willingly allowing himself to be this open. Stiles kept his mouth shut, realizing that one false word, one sarcastic remark at this point, might cause this wonderful moment to collapse and Derek to go stomping off into the night, never to return or forgive him.

Of course, that didn’t stop his brain from running overtime.

_Jesus, Derek… you are one fucking hung wolf!_

_You’re mouth is so fucking sexy. I can’t wait to see my cock in it._

_Do you bottom? Because I really want to mount you. Not that I wouldn’t let you mount me because you are so fucking amazing, Der._

_Jesus, what must your cock feel like in my ass, huh? You’re going to have to work me open for a bit. Just sayin’._

_And God, I want to suck you off like, right now. Want to totally swallow you whole. Fuck, Der._

“Please, Stiles,” said Derek.

“What?” said Stiles.

“What you said - just suck on me. Go on. Please. I wanna see your mouth around me.”

“I said that out loud just now?” asked Stiles. Derek shot him a confused look. “Nevermind. I’ll um… I’ll just suck your dick now. Yeah. Let me do that.”

“That might be for the best for both of us, Stiles,” said Derek. Stiles silently agreed that shutting him up by filling his mouth would indeed be an excellent thing to do, considering.

He had imagined it before. But he had never actually practiced on a real live person. On the occasional banana, sure. Even that cucumber once, but on a fully-functional human being, never. He approached Derek tentatively, taking in only as much as he could, which wasn’t quite half of his length, but Derek didn’t seem to mind if his moans and hitching breath were anything to go by. He thrust his head back and forth over the shaft, trying to figure out breathing, the taste, and what to do with his tongue that would make Derek never want to get his dick sucked by anyone other than him for the rest of his wolfspan.

“Take your time, babe,” said Derek, soothingly. “Don’t rush it. Easy.”

Stiles closed his eyes and relaxed into what he was doing. Pulling off, he asked: “You’re here for the rest of the night?”

Derek smirked. “I’m all yours.”

Stiles groaned and licked Derek from balls to tip before swallowing down again. On the pull-off he sucked hard and he felt Derek’s hand heavy against the back of his head, not pushing exactly, but just _there_. It was grounding and Stiles took the time to explore his cock with his tongue and lips, dwelling a little longer on the areas that made Derek’s breath catch, his body shudder, or his hips flex.

He moved to his balls and sucked first one, then the other, then - placing his lips as a bare touch on his scrotum - hummed. Derek’s back arched beautifully and he did it again and again in intervals between sucking him off and licking his abs, until Derek practically begged him to stop. “Gonna come, Stiles,” he panted. “Please. Please suck me off. Help me come.”

Stiles put his mouth to Derek’s aching cock and used his fist and his mouth to bring him to the brink and over. He had the other hand over his balls, massaging them and he felt them contract less than a minute before he came. He knew that feeling well. It was practically the point of no return. He kept up his stroke until Derek’s hips stuttered and Stiles had to back off at the last moment or risk choking on cum and cock. He was proud of himself for taking Derek’s orgasm in his mouth, swallowing like a champ. He stroked him for a few seconds more, figuring, if that’s what he liked, then Derek might too, and was rewarded by a sex-drunk grin from the big bad he’d just blown.

He licked his shaft clean before moving to lay beside him, one hand still caressing his balls and now flaccid dick. Stiles rested his head on Derek’s shoulder.

Derek peeked at him, his green eyes mere slits. “So much for not being that kind of boy.” The laughter built up slowly between them, but it was a good laugh and they fell asleep in each other’s arms, not wanting morning to come and the perfection to end.

 

~080~

 

“So I’m officially un-grounding you,” said his father the next evening over dinner.

“What do you mean?” asked Stiles.

“Jesus, Stiles!” said Stuart. “You give me cash in hand and then just forget about the grounding dad has you under?”

“Cash in- what?” he looked at Stuart stupidly.

Stuart gave him an exasperated look and inclined his head toward their father. “I told dad that you paid me. Something about extra lawn jobs? I don’t know. You weren’t specific.” His eyes widened as Stiles’ narrowed in confusion. Stuart spoke very slowly and clearly when he added: “So your debt to me is paid and therefore dad is releasing you from your bondage.”

“That’s right,” said John. He paused and pointed his fork at Stiles. “Just so long as the cash you gave him was from honest earnings.”

“Uh- yeah!” said Stiles, still not knowing how or when this happened, but loving it all the same. “Perfectly legit, dad. I swear.”

“Good,” said John and his head bent over his chicken pot pie.

As soon as their dad looked away, the twins had a silent conversation that went like this:

> Stiles: What the hell just happened?
> 
> Stuart: I’ll tell you later.
> 
> Stiles: But I don’t owe you the money?
> 
> Stuart: No. I’ll explain later.
> 
> Stiles: …
> 
> Stiles: Seriously?
> 
> Stuart: [eyeroll] Yes, stupid. I’ll explain later.

“So how was school today, Stiles?” asked John.

Both of their heads swung back to their father, plastic grins attached to their faces. “Fine, dad,” said Stiles automatically. “Just fine.”

 

~080~

 

It was a long-standing family tradition at the Stilinski household that the twins always did the dishes. And this night was no exception. They stood side-by-side, Stiles washing while Stuart dried and they discussed the earlier confusion with the confidence of two men who knew that their father had gone up to bed a few minutes before. They waited for the sound of his bedroom door to close before Stiles blurted out: “So what the hell happened, dude? How did you get paid? Or are you just forgiving me?”

“I am not forgiving you,” said Stuart. “And yes, you’re all paid up.”

“But how?”

“Ask your boyfriend.”

“Derek?”

Stuart nodded.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh, yes, he is,” said Stuart.

“He paid you all fifteen hundred?” asked Stiles.

“In cash,” said Stuart.

Stiles stopped mid-scrub to contemplate it. “Did he say why he paid you?”

“He said his original intent was to just donate and be done with it,” he said. “But it turns out, your friend Scott had a better idea.”

“What?”

“Apparently it was Scott’s idea to have him donate a date with himself for the auction. His mom was in charge of it or something? And they needed more stuff donated. So, Scott thought he would get Derek to do the auction, because Scott told Derek that he would bring you there and you might bid.”

Stiles stopped again and shook his head. “I- I don’t get it. You make it sound like Derek wanted me to win the bid.”

Stuart leaned in really closely to his brother. “He did, jackass.”

“But- but I-?”

Stuart sighed. “Apparently you aren’t the only one who wanted this “thing” between you to be a thing- Derek has wanted to ask you out too but he was too much of an emotionally repressed idiot to ask. Until Scott made it an opportunity for both of you.” Stuart watched the truth dawn on his brother’s face. “It was Scott’s idea all along to get you two together. I guess he was just sick of being in the middle listening to the two of you whine about wanting the other and not being brave enough to do something about it.”

“That little fuck monkey,” said Stiles.

“So Derek paid me directly and said that it was his donation anyway,” said Stuart. “I told him that he was only paying off a debt that wasn’t his. He said to call it charity.”

“So I’m charity?”

“Yeah,” said Stuart. “And lucky for you, your boyfriend will do “anything for charity”. His words, not mine.”

Stiles had to smile at that. He wasn’t just any charity case; he was Derek Hale’s charity case. And that was fine by him.

“So all’s well that ends well, eh?” asked Stuart.

“Guess so,” said Stiles. “Damn.”

“What?”

“I just realized that I’ve got a boyfriend. And I really need to go tell my boyfriend how much I’m grateful to him.” He looked at the soapy water and the dishes and looked to his brother.

“Just this once, you fucking goldbricker,” his brother warned and grinned widely. “Go get him, tiger.”

Stiles left the house and drove off as fast as his Jeep  - and the local speed limits - would allow. Derek Hale was about to find out just how grateful Stiles Stilinski could be.


	9. Chapter 9

Derek reset the perimeter alarm just as the door to his loft opened. “Stiles, what are you doing here?”

Stiles didn’t hesitate. He didn’t over-think. He didn’t even say hello. He just walked right up to that gorgeous, generous, forgiving, amazing man-wolf and planted a searing kiss to his face. He could feel that Derek was shocked at first, but slowly the man melted, wrapping his big strong arms around his slim body and pulling him close, deepening the kiss. They let it linger, the taste of each other a thrill after the small separation of a day since their first real sexual encounter. Stiles spent the whole of that day trying to think past the memory of Derek’s taste and the look in his eyes when Stiles came for him, the cum on his face that he licked away and then kissed into him, and the way he looked when he came, _holy shit…_

Stiles was half-hard at the thought of all of it and the press of Derek’s body on his just then as they stood and kissed got him hard the rest of the way. He had to have Derek Hale right there and then. As soon as the kiss broke, he dropped to his knees and mouthed at Derek’s crotch.

“Whoa, Stiles!” said Derek, jumping back a bit in surprise. “What’s going on, man?” He took him under the elbows and helped him to his feet.

“You paid off my brother,” said Stiles. “You paid off my debt to him.”

“And I would again,” said Derek. “You’re worth it.” He carded a hand through Stiles’ hair. He brought him close for a slow, lascivious kiss that made Stiles’ knees buckle.

“I j-just wanted to th-thank you,” said Stiles. “That kiss was amazing, by the way.”

“Mmm,” Derek agreed. “Do you know why it was amazing?”

“Because you have special magic in your lips because of the whole werewolf thing?” Stiles answered dreamily.

Derek gave him a sour look. “No, you spaz,” he said. “It’s because I took my time about it.”

“Oh,” said Stiles, blushing a bit. “I do tend to rush, don’t I?”

Derek nodded.

“Gotcha,” said Stiles, wincing. “I’ll try to be better about that.”

“Starting now, I’m hoping,” said Derek.

“Starting right now,” Stiles said and leaned in for another kiss. He was true to his word: he lingered over Derek’s bottom lip, worrying it almost to the point of bleeding. He ran his tongue over Derek’s teeth and tongue, memorizing the feel of him, the taste of him. A wild churning of heat pooled in his belly and he could feel his cock throb at the insides of his jeans. Suddenly, he wondered if Derek was as aroused as he was. He put a hand to Derek’s crotch and Derek jumped back again.

“You call that taking your time?” he asked.

“What?” asked Stiles. “I was doing okay with the kissing, right?”

Derek sighed. “I see now that we may have to discuss a few things.”

“What?” said Stiles, a sense of impending doom killing his boner.

“Stiles, where did you perfect this lovemaking technique of yours?” asked Derek.

“Um… nowhere. Just naturally talented, I guess.”

“Uh-huh,” said Derek, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “And now you’re going to have proper lessons.”

“I am?”

 

~080~

 

They wound up on the couch, Derek hovering over Stiles on his hands and knees and holding Stiles’ hands above his head. “I’m only going to touch you with my mouth,” said Derek. “Close your eyes and relax into it.”

“Okay,” said Stiles.

“Don’t touch me back,” said Derek. “Consider it a challenge. Try not to move at all. Just try to _feel_.”

Stiles nodded eagerly and licked his lips.

“You’re going to want to move,” said Derek. “Resist. If you can’t, I have other plans in mind, but I’d really rather not get to that stage unless I have to.”

“You- you mean like… spankings or something?” asked Stiles breathlessly. His cock was having a fucking party in his pants at the thought.

“Or something,” said Derek, a wry grin playing about his mouth.

That same mouth did wonderful things to Stiles’ neck in the next moment. Stiles thought he was having another dream the way the barest touch of Derek’s lips turned into a fire trail from his earlobe to his collarbone. He hummed along the clavicle, sending shivers down Stiles’ spine. His tongue traced the hollow just above it and Stiles could hear his heartbeat in his ears and his breath catch. He didn’t know if he could stop his hips from bucking up against Derek, but he was doing his damnedest to stay still; it wasn’t easy for a naturally fidgety kid like Stiles.

Derek threaded his fingers in between Stiles’ as he bent lower to the notch just below his throat and sucked a kiss to the skin leaving a red mark that thrilled him. “You pink up so nicely, Stiles. Want to leave a mark on you that’s all mine. That ok?”

“Oh God,” said Stiles, moaning helplessly, “you can do whatever you want to me, Derek. I really don’t care.”

Derek carefully took one of his hands away and hiked up Stiles’ shirt. He smoothed the hand back down his flesh, enjoying the feel of the soft skin under his hand. His fingertips found Stiles’ nipple and teased it for a bit, fascinated at the play of the tissue.

“Son of a-” said Stiles, his breath rapid and erratic at the light touch. He lost his ability to breathe a moment later when Derek’s hot mouth followed his fingertip. The velvet tongue along the sensitive nubbin was almost too much for him. He gripped the arm of the couch above his head in a desperate attempt to keep his promise not to touch but his wriggling was obvious.

“Stay still, Stiles,” Derek said against his skin. “Stay still or I move on to phase two.” His lips found Stiles’ ribs and he nipped at him there, sucked at the flesh, and licked against the heat of him, leaving a mark that would most certainly bruise.

“I- It’s- uh… God!” said Stiles, his brain working frantically to tell Derek that was he was doing was not only the most amazing thing but that he wanted more and more until his body was dotted with his teeth and claw marks. He wanted to tell him that he wanted to roll over and present his bare ass to Derek, to let him play with every part of him from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. That he wanted Derek to never stop touching him, ever. But all he could produce were the odd stuttered syllable that made him sound like the helpless ragdoll he was.

Derek inched his way down his body, his hands leaving Stiles’ hands in favor of bracketing his ribs as his mouth moved against the bottom of Stiles’ ribs, edging along his belly at the bottom of his breast bone and when he dragged his lips down the midline of Stiles’ abdomen and dipped a warm tongue into his bellybutton, Stiles’ hips bucked up. “Strike two, Stiles,” said Derek.

“S-sorry, Der,” said Stiles. “I’m trying to be good. Want to be good for you. Please.” He squeezed his eyes shut and willed his body to obey.

Derek stared at Stiles for a moment, his brain shutting down from the words Stiles had just said. He had hoped that Stiles would take a bit of instruction - if only to improve his overall stamina - but the giving over of power was totally unexpected. And more than a little hot. He let out a grunt of want and licked a slow path below Stiles’ navel and along the dark trail of course hair until he reached the top of his jeans.

Stiles let out a whine of frustration and for a moment Derek wanted to order him not to make a sound as well as not to move, but he held back knowing that baby steps are what Stiles needed before things got too crazy. Especially considering what he had in mind should Stiles disobey again.

His hands paused over his flies as he looked up at Stiles who seemed to be battling some inner demon. “Shh,” he soothed. “Stiles? Babe. Shh…. Calm your breathing. Just breathe and look at me, okay?”

Stiles peeled his eyes open and stared, smoky amber eyes filled with pitiful need.

“Is it okay?” asked Derek, his hand hovering over Stiles’ belt.

“Please,” said Stiles. “I’ll be so good for you, Derek. Please.”

Derek couldn’t help the wave of want that pushed through him. His mouth found the soft flesh under Stiles’ bellybutton and bit, sucked, and licked, leaving another bruising mark. As he worked the spot, Stiles’ hands found the back of his head and pulled away almost immediately, his body writhing again against the onslaught of sensual input. Derek lifted his head away. “So much for you being good.”

Stiles looked at him helplessly. “Derek,” he moaned. “I’m sorry, Der. So sorry.”

“Oh Stiles, don’t worry. I think you might actually like phase two,” said Derek, kissing his mouth softly. “Pick a safe word.”

“What?” asked Stiles, alarm bells going off in his head.

“Stiles, just breathe,” said Derek, hovering over him again on all fours, not touching, but close enough so that his breath huffed hotly against Stiles’ neck. “We’re just talking here. Pick a safe word. Something you wouldn’t call out during sex. Something totally separate.”

Stiles mind scrambled. “Algebra.”

“Okay,” said Derek, a bit dubiously. “Algebra it is. You say “algebra” at any point, and no matter what’s going on, we stop everything. And I can do the same. Okay?”

“Okay,” said Stiles. “What did you want to do to me exactly?”

“All I want to do is bind your hands,” said Derek. “We’ll use comfortable cuffs: the kind we use for full moons on the newer werewolves. I just want to teach you the value of taking your time. Okay?”

“S-sounds relatively harmless,” said Stiles.

“And you still sound really nervous,” said Derek. He removed himself and sat in one of the chairs. He motioned Stiles to him. He sat the boy in his lap and held him closely, cradling him. He softly stroked his hair and his thigh and spoke in gentle tones: “You know I would never hurt you, Stiles. You’re pack. You’re mine.” He kissed his face, lips caressing his skin.

“I know,” said Stiles. “I do know that, Der.”

“Good,” said Derek. “And all I want to do is to teach you to slow things down so that you can enjoy them more. Sometimes it’s not about the amount of orgasms you have, rather the quality of them. Get it?”’

Stiles nodded. He was totally going to fall asleep right in Derek’s arms if he kept this petting up.

“Good,” Derek said again. “So what do you say we head upstairs and I learn what makes you feel good?”

Instead of answering him, Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s shoulders and kissed him. Derek picked him up in his arms and carried him upstairs to his bed.

 

~080~

 

The cuffs weren’t as uncomfortable as they looked. As a matter of fact, if Stiles didn’t move much, he barely felt them. His hands were bound crossed above his head and his feet were spread wide apart, unbound, but nothing hurt. In fact, it took him telling Derek three different times “Yes! I’m okay! Will you please just suck my dick or something?” before the werewolf left his side with a slight grimace. Upon reflection, Stiles is fairly certain he could have been more romantic with his assurances. Oh well.

Derek was naked above him and he looked spectacular. He rested on his knees between Stiles’ legs, his cock at half attention between his powerful thighs, a trail of black coarse hair rising from the base of his shaft to his navel. His chest was clean, nipples pink and erect, the hills and valleys of his musculature on complete display. He shouldn’t be kneeling there, Stiles thought; he should be in a goddamned museum. Stiles smirked at the memory of the auction - half a world away now - when all the ladies in the room collectively gasped at the sight of him. He wondered how many of them would faint dead away to see this scenario play before them.

“What’s your safe word, Stiles?” he asked.

“Algebra,” he responded.

Derek licked at the inside of his knee and just along the crease underneath. Stiles giggled. “Jeez, Der! That tickles!” He trailed nibbled kisses underneath his thigh, propping up the knee with one hand. “Okay… okay,” said Stiles, beginning to pant, “so when you said “taking your time”, you actually meant “torture Stiles”, right? Because this is freaking torture!”

“I haven’t even started yet,” Derek said into his skin at the joint where thigh met buttock.

Stiles let out a lunatic laugh. “I thought I was the one who was trying to be grateful to you.”

“Believe me, Stiles,” said Derek, huffing his breath over the crease of Stiles’ thigh and hip just to the right of his throbbing cock, “you are giving me so fucking much.”

“I- uh… I-” Stiles attempted. But the effort was too much. Derek was nuzzling his cock and breathing hot air over it and there was his beard, soft and rough, right up against the tender skin and Christ! It was so much to take… it was just fucking bliss and Stiles never wanted it to end.

His thighs and belly got attention from hands and mouth, Derek warming them up and down, seeking out the sensitive places Stiles didn’t know he owned. As he worked, Stiles’ increased heartbeat thrummed in his ears and he felt his fangs extend and his claws inch out. He pushed down the wolf inside, placating him with promises of a sweeter victory over the writhing figure in his bed, but not before leaving small claw marks across his skin, red threads against the white flesh of Stiles’ abdomen and thighs, none bleeding but irritated and raw. He licked at them soothingly, growling low as he took in the handiwork that marked Stiles as his.

“You look so fucking gone, Stiles,” said Derek. And he did. His head lolled back, eyes closed, mouth open, body undulating in a hypnotic rhythm that made Derek want to devour him whole. There was nothing outside of that room that mattered to Derek anymore; he felt the world condense to alabaster skin dotted with moles, scratch marks, and welts bitten and sucked into him. All that existed were those long eyelashes against his cheek, the shining pink of his lips and tongue, the soft cadence of his breath and the scent… oh the overwhelming scent of Stiles Stilinski.

Derek could sense a faint trace of dishwashing soap, but underneath that was the musk that he couldn’t ignore since their first meeting in the woods all those years ago. He was just a boy then. Derek had pushed the inappropriate thoughts of the wolf in him away; the ones that told him: _mate, chase, fuck, mine_. But he had been too young, too untested. He didn’t know the boy at all. And now, after all this time, Derek could finally let the inner wolf win out. He recited the words over Stiles’ skin like a mantra, like a prayer to a merciful and benevolent god: “Mate, chase, fuck, mine… Mate, chase, fuck, mine…”

He tasted his nipples again then snuffled at his underarms, departing with a lick and a nip. “Smell so good, Stiles,” said Derek.

“Uh, new body wash at the house,” said Stiles automatically. Derek looked up at his face, his eyes still closed and lost in the feeling of Derek all over him. Derek shook his head and smiled.

“You’re adorable,” he said and kissed his neck in several places before delicately circling the shell of his ear with his tongue. He noted where Stiles jumped as he plunged his tongue into the opening.

“H-h-holy hell!” Stiles exclaimed. “Th-that’s um… God! That’s so fucking good, Der. Please please please don’t stop!” Stiles’ cock was hard before Derek found the erogenous zone in his ear, but now it was aching to be touched. He needed release soon or he felt as if he were going to burst. “Please, Der,” he begged, his voice a sweet whine in the werewolf’s ears, “please touch me. I need to get off. Please.”

Derek pulled away. “But I’m only half done, Stiles. Did you want to finish so soon?”

“Half done?”

Derek’s eyes glowed blue in the dark of the moonlit room. “I haven’t finished marking you yet.” He kissed his mouth slowly. “Want to mark you as mine. Need to. You’ll let me, yeah?”

“Oh dear sweet baby Jeebus, yeah,” said Stiles, a goofy grin playing across his sex-drunk face. “Whatever you want, you big bad wolf, you.”

 

~080~

 

It felt strange just to trust. Stiles was laying on his back unable to see Derek, but he could feel the wolf hovering between his knees, his pressure on the bed, his hot breath and lips along the back of his knees. “God! I told you that tickles, Derek,” said Stiles laughing and squirming away as best he could. Two firm hands grabbed his ankles and held him steady.

“Easy, Stiles,” soothed Derek. “I like the back of your knees. The skin’s sensitive and soft.”

“You like sensitive and soft? Date a girl,” Stiles quipped.

Derek slapped Stiles’ ass playfully. “Don’t want a girl. Want you.”

“I love it how you drop the subject of your sentences when I get you upset,” said Stiles. He wiggled his ass at Derek. “It happens when you get horny too.”

“Stop that,” said Derek, feeling his cock twitch and fill at the sight of that sweet little ass, the red mark from his hand blooming nicely against his skin.

“Want to pound me?” teased Stiles. “Want to lick me, Der?”

“Yeah,” said Derek and the tone in his voice made Stiles stop and glance back.

He turned his head and took in the sight of Derek down his left flank, eyes bale fire blue, mouth open, fangs just peeking out. “Fuck me,” swore Stiles under his breath.

“That’s the eventual idea, yeah,” said Derek. “You ready for that?”

The thought of Derek taking him right then and there made Stiles’ head spin. “God yes,” he replied.

“Then let me work you open, huh?”

“Go. Do. That thing you just said. Yes. Please.”

Derek pushed his face against Stiles’ ass and Stiles let out a wanton moan. His hands bracketed Stiles hips and he separated the cheeks of his ass, unable to hold back the desire any longer. Stiles’ hole was pink and pert and he lapped at it.

The warm wet of Derek’s tongue was an entirely new sensation and Stiles could barely remember to breathe as Derek enjoyed his taste of him. Stiles clawed at the sheets above his head and arched his back, pressing himself closer to the sensation of hot wet and rough stubble. His head rolled all over the pillow and words came out of his mouth half-formed, stuttered, and unintelligible.

On instinct, Stiles rose to his knees and Derek adjusted himself accordingly, dipping low and plunging his tongue into him once more, the angle new, the sensation more rewarding. “Oh Jesus Christ, Derek,” said Stiles, his breath coming in pants. A fine sheen of sweat covered his body. “M-more,” he said, circling his hips, pushing back. He keened with want.

Derek’s inner wolf howled at the response he was getting. This was what it had wanted from the day they had met him. This is the scent it needed, the touch, the taste. Derek could feel his claws extend and jab the skin, tracing more thin red welts along the creamy perfection of Stiles’ skin. Finally, he knew he had to have him.

He moved to get the lube from the bedside table and Stiles whined at the loss. “Shh, Stiles,” he soothed. “Be right back.”

As quick as he could, he slicked himself up with one hand and used his lubed up hand to finger Stiles’ open, claws carefully retracted. The wolf inside of him couldn’t wait. He twisted his fingers, scissoring them and loosening Stiles up as quickly as he could; he felt he was going to burst from the anticipation.

“Oh fuck, Derek,” said Stiles. “You feel so fucking good. Come on, wolf. Put it in me. I can take it. Come on.” He pulled at his chains, edging himself up on his elbows and looking back over his shoulder. Derek’s face was wolfed out as he lined himself up behind Stiles and _pushed…_

Slowly the head of his cock penetrated Stiles’ ass and Stiles let out a low groan. “That’s it, Stiles,” Derek said. “Now bear down just a bit. Open yourself up… there. That’s it.” He felt his head slip past the rings of muscle and the shaft begin to bury itself within the younger man like a sheath. He calmed the wolf enough to pause and wait for Stiles to adjust. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, a strong steady rhythm that increased slightly with every inch he pushed in. It was agony to hold so still only to press in and then hold still again, but soon he was buried to the root inside of him and he leaned forward whispering: “Stiles, you are the best lover. So good. So obedient. You make me feel like an Alpha again.”

“Oh fuck, Der,” said Stiles, numbly. “You’re my Alpha, okay? Whatever anyone says, you’ll be my Alpha.”

“Oh fuck yeah,” said Derek, smiling widely. “Now let me show you how an Alpha fucks his mate, huh?”

“Yes,” said Stiles. “Please. Alpha. My Alpha.”

Derek smoothed his hands down Stiles’ back, kissing his spine as he brought himself upright. He grasped his hips and began to thrust, shallow at first but then building to a smooth rhythm that had him pushing and pulling Stiles along his whole length. Stiles took him like a dream and he reveled in the sight of his fat cock disappearing between such slim hips with no apparent difficulty. He was at his climax in minutes, the sweat from both their bodies creating a heady scent in the room and a slick slap slap slap with every contact.

“Stiles. Stiles. God yeah. Fuck!” Derek managed before he came, spending himself inside the only person who mattered to him.

Stiles was dizzy with the sensation of his prostate being brushed with almost every thrust from the werewolf. He was sure he was going to come without even being touched, but then Derek came hard inside him and they both lost the rhythm of the fuck with his orgasm. He let Derek spend himself, reveling in the fact that he was the one to make Derek Hale so crazy with lust. He wanted to make the sensation last forever for both of them.

“Want to keep my cum inside you, Stiles,” said Derek. His mouth was beside his ear and there was a warm tongue that followed his words. “Will you let me plug you?”

Stiles turned to Derek, surprised. “Are you kidding me?”

“You know the word you have to use to stop this,” said Derek. “But yeah, I’m serious.”

Stiles closed his eyes in his bliss. This is what it meant to be marked and scented and marked again. “Get the plug, Der,” he said. “I’ll wear it all fucking day. You can make routine deposits and plug me back up. I’ll hold you inside me until I can’t stand it.”

Derek huffed hot breath over the back of his neck. This was better than he’d hoped. He reached out and managed to open the bedside table drawer and snatch up a plug and the lube. It was a matter of moments to slick it up and replace his dick with the plug instead. Derek kissed and licked at his hole in gratitude. “You look and smell like mine now, Stiles.”

“I’m glad,” said Stiles. “But um… Der? Could I get a hand or something?”

Derek blushed with embarrassment. “God Stiles! I’m so sorry. Turn over, babe.”

Stiles did as he was bid and with enthusiasm, spreading his legs wide for his Alpha.

“I think we’re going to try something different for you, Stiles,” Derek said as he looked over the boy’s body.

“Like what?”

“Like maybe I want you inside me.”

 

~080~

 

Watching Derek Hale open himself up for Stiles was erotic. But to watch his own cock slowly disappear inside him was something else entirely. Derek sank down along Stiles’ length inch by glorious inch and he tried to take it the sight of it all at once: the long muscular chest, the Adam’s apple as it bobbed in his throat with his head tilted back, the tight hot sensation around his throbbing dick. He wanted his hands free so he could memorize Derek’s body with his fingertips. He pulled at the chains, but he was far too human to have any chance there; all he could do was watch as Derek fucked himself on his dick.

Derek’s cool jade eyes opened; the wolf in him sated but still present. “Fill me up so nice, Stiles.”

“You’re so fucking tight, Der,” said Stiles. “I gotta be honest: I may not last long if this keeps up. You are seriously so fucking gorgeous.”

Derek pulled up from Stiles’ body and held himself there, the tip of Stiles’ cock still inside him. “Fuck me, Stiles,” he said.

“You mean,” said Stiles, planting his feet on the mattress, “like this?” He thrust his hips up toward Derek’s ass and heard the satisfying smack of flesh against flesh as he drove his cock home time and again. He could feel the butt plug he had inside of him with every lift of his hips, but the sensation only reminded him of the part of Derek he carried with him; it made things that much better.

“Oh yeah,” said Derek, “just like that. God damn!”

“Shit, Derek,” said Stiles. “This is fucking amazing. Oh my Alpha… shit.”

“Oh that’s it, Stiles,” said Derek. “Fuck my ass. Come on, babe. Get off on this. Come on.” Derek twisted his own nipple as Stiles continued to bury himself inside the werewolf.

“Jesus!” Stiles cried as he felt his climax build and build, the plug just grazing his prostate once every few thrusts. “I’m gonna come. Fuck! I’m gonna come hard, Derek.”

“The harder the better, Stiles. Do it. Come inside me.”

Stiles vision went black at the edges as he felt his release wash over him. His hips and legs and ass ached with the exertion and strain, but he was past caring. He just kept pounding away through his orgasm and into that relaxed bliss of afterglow, his cock slowly becoming flaccid and slipping out of Derek’s hole, followed by his cum. It was the hottest thing Stiles had ever seen in his life.

Derek was spent. His body was covered in sweat and he leaned over Stiles and kissed him slowly, deeply. “Mine,” he growled.

“Yours,” agreed Stiles. “No more lies. No more deceit. I’m sorry it happened the way it did, but I’m glad for the way it ended.”

“And you’ll never steal from your brother again?”

“Never,” said Stiles. He held up two fingers on one of his shackled hands. “Scout’s honor.”

“Good,” said Derek, sucking another deep welt against Stiles’ neck. “That means you get to tie me up next time.” He reached across for the key to the cuffs and unlocked them. Stiles instantly wrapped his arms around Derek and snuggled in.

“So comfortable,” Stiles muttered before sleep took him.

“Mine,” Derek said again as he settled in beside Stiles, swearing to himself that he would never put himself up for auction for a date ever again. Not that he needed to: Stiles was always going to be the highest bidder.


End file.
